A Deadly Royal Affair
by Rubiredslippers
Summary: Anne is trying to move on with her royal life after her night with Aramis. Preparing for motherhood and fighting her attraction to the dashing musketeer. Meanwhile Aramis, a man torn between his duty to the crown and his love for the queen, is on the trail of a criminal mastermind with deadly plans for those he loves. Multiple P.O.V.'s and ships. Annamis mostly though :)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter O****ne**

**Authors note: So this is my first musketeers ****fan fiction and i have to say. I LOVE THE SHOW! This story will have multiple P.O.V.'s but it will mainly focus on Anne and Aramis' relationship. Major thanks to my friend Sophie who also loves the show and is helping as my beta.**

"We will need to get you some new gowns, Your Majesty." said Jocelyn, Queen Anne's lady-in-waiting as she struggled to tighten the back of Anne's dress.

"Yes, I suppose we will." Anne said smiling.

She rubbed her hand across her rather swollen abdomen. Even though she was only in the fourth month of her pregnancy, Anne was already showing the signs of impending motherhood evidently. Her once flat stomach was now curved and pushing against her bodice and straining her skirts.

"You are looking well this morning. No more sickness when you wake?" Her faithful lady asked.

"No, dear friend, when I wake all I feel is joy and gratitude that I have been blessed so." Anne said smiling, in the corner of her eye she saw Jocelyn's serene smile.

Unlike her first pregnancy, Anne felt only happiness, none of the fear or worry she had had before. She had beenso_ young_. Everything had been new and exciting, until she woke up covered in blood. Anne winced at the memory of her screaming and begging for God to show mercy to her baby.

But now she knew this baby was different. The child within her was strong, even now she felt the small flutters of movement as if he was showing her, he was a survivor. Anne hoped in her heart that this child was a boy, an heir for her husband.

"Shall I send for the royal seamstress?" Jocelyn inquired.

"Not today, Jocelyn, It is such a beautiful day. Why don't we just sit outside and enjoy the beautiful french summer?"

Anne had no royal duties to fulfil today, so she ordered a gazebo to be put up in the gardens for her and her ladies to relax under.

Anne, who now became exhausted very easily, sat and watched the servants scurrying back and forth making preparations for the ball being held in her honour. This is when they would announce that she was with child, Anne had insisted they wait for a month before telling anyone, so that she could be sure. Of course the Cardinal knew, Captain Treville and of course the musketeers that had been in the room at the time. The men who had protected her when she was in danger.

Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan and Aramis.

_Aramis. _

Anne's heart flooded with warmth when she thought of him. She knew that she should feel shame after their tryst, but all she felt was…love.

Love for the wonderful, valiant, kind man that was everything her husband was not. The man who had shown her more pleasures in one night than her husband in six years. Heat flooded her face when she thought of their night together.

"Daydreaming, Majesty?" asked Jocelyn. Her chief lady-in-waiting had always been eerily perceptive. The moment Anne had returned from the nunnery Jocelyn had known something had happened, but she did not ask her anything.

"Yes I was…thinking of how wonderful the ball will be." Anne lied.

Jocelyn smiled wanly.

"Your Majesty will most certainly need a beautiful gown for the ball. You will be the centre of attention."

She was right. As tired as she was, Anne would have to endure a dress fitting with old women prodding and poking her with pins.

"I don't suppose we could call upon a new seamstress? I would like something different." She mused.

"I could go to the hall and see if the steward has any other seamstresses available?" Jocelyn suggested.

"That would be wonderful, if you do not mind?" She must not have minded because Jocelyn immediately rose from her seat put down the book she had been reading and excused herself from her current company, striding across the gardens.

Her other ladies watched Jocelyn leave and then began to whisper things to each other. They did not seem to like her much. Anne found that upsetting, Jocelyn had come with her from Austria when she was betrothed to Louis. They had grown up together and had always been close especially because they had both lost their mothers when they were young.

Anne pulled her thoughts away from her mother and found that they strayed back to her own future duties as a mother.

After her baby was born, she would have to rest. Midwives she had spoken to warned her that childbirth could be a long and painful process, but Anne did not care so long as her child was safe and healthy. But after she was well, there were so many things she looked forward to doing. Sitting in these gardens with the baby, laughing and playing or just watching him sleep. And when he was older she would walk with him down the halls and find him friends to play with, every child needs friends even a royal one. Anne believed in her A sudden feeling of sadness swept over Anne.

Here she was thinking of her life with this baby, when his father would never have one.

Sure, Aramis might see the child occasionally but their child would never call him father. No, instead Louis would take that right for himself. Anne thought back to when she had last seen Aramis, how he had vowed to protect her baby. _Their baby_. She could still remember the way he had looked at her when he heard she was with child.

_His child_.

Their conversation had shaken her deeply. Anne had been prepared for a variety of possible reactions, from fear to anger, but she had been shocked by his words. How he had sworn to protect her and her child.

To any onlooker this interaction could have been seen simply as a loyal soldier speaking of his duty to protect the royal family, but Anne had known his words were loaded with a different meaning. Her brilliant, honourable Aramis was swearing to honour his duty as a father, as well as a musketeer, and this action only made Anne feel more love for him.

"Your majesty ?" said one of her ladies, Melinda.

"Yes?" Anne replied, as she was pulled away from her thoughts of the dashing musketeer.

"Shall we go inside now, I think the weather is turning." Melinda said, her eyes darting to the sky.

Anne followed her gaze and saw that the beautiful weather had been obscured by dark clouds in the sky, they looked like they might burst with rain at any moment.

"Yes we should return to the palace. Pity, it was such a beautiful day."

**A.N: So what do you think? I would love some reviews as feedback and to see if I should continue. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the musketeers or it's characters. If I did it would be called "the Annamis show".**

**A.N. Again thanks to my friend Sophie (Miss Jackson Grayson-Barton) without her this story would have the shittiest grammar ever. **

"This is not what I imagined when I became a musketeer," remarked Athos, as he withdrew his sword from it's scabbard, preparing himself for the drunk's advance.

Aramis and his fellow musketeers had been tasked to search the city for men whose names were on a list – a list, from Captain Treville, of men who had reportedly committed treason. These men had probably just expressed their dislike of the King, whom they blamed for their troubles, but unfortunately they had complained too loudly. The Captain had ordered these men rounded up and sent to stay in a prison cell for a few days.

What with the grand ball the King was planning, the Cardinal had shared his fears that the commoners might decide to take action and form a mob outside the palace. A mob would not have been a threat, but the King had heeded his advisor's words and ordered this drastic action. Aramis disagreed with this, but it was not his place to question his King's demands.

"Still I suppose it keeps us from getting lazy." Porthos replied. The man they had been sent to collect, a Monsieur Lombard, had been found on the floor of a tavern on the edge of town. Drunk and seemingly out of his mind. Lombard did not seem to be a fan of soldiers, much less musketeers.

"Yes. You have been getting to lazy." Aramis said jokingly. "Why don't we let you take this one?"

And with that he stepped back, watching Athos and D'Artagnan do the same.

"If you insist." Porthos replied. Lombard could not have been much of a fighter sober, but drunk he seemed to show no skill what so ever. He flung himself at Porthos who hit him once, knocking his to the floor. Porthos pulled Lombard's hands behind his back where he tied them together tightly. The drunkard continued to struggle as Porthos pulled him to his feet, thrashing and shouting.

"You serve a cowardly little imp! He would have us all starve! Him and his bitch queen! If it were up to me! I would—"

But the men never got to here what Monsieur Lombard would do because the second he had spoken of the Queen, Aramis had strode over to him and hit him with such force, he was knocked unconscious.

"Now what do we do? Carry him?" Porthos complained as he struggled to hold the man up.

"Strap him to my horse. I'll walk." He muttered, walking away. Lombard's comment about the king had been quite funny, but when he had spoken of Ann—her Majesty that way, Aramis had seen red.

His Queen nor any woman deserved to be spoken of that way.

"So any more names on that list?" Asked D'Artagnan. "This is quite entertaining."

"Yes. One more. A Monsieur Rochelle, a spice merchant who owns a shop by the Sienne." Athos read from the paper in his hand.

"A spice merchant? What did he do? Threaten to pepper the King?" Porthos asked laughing heartily.

"Apparently he has been speaking loudly about treasonous things," was Athos' vague reply. While walking down a path that lead to the prison, Aramis turned to look up at Athos on his destrier.

"What treasonous things?" D'Artagnan asked, before Aramis had a chance to ask the same question.

"The Captain says that some people in Paris believe that Louis is not fit to rule. That France would be better ruled by Phillip IV," Athos answered with a dark look on his face, this subject obviously vexed him.

"Why the bloody hell would the people want the king of Spain to rule us?!" Pathos asked loudly.

"Spain? Rule us?" D'Artagnan muttered bewildered. "Why would they want that?"

"Do I look like a fountain of knowledge? I was not privy to all of the Captain's worries." Athos snapped.

"But you must know why? The Captain would have told you." Aramis countered.

"Why?"

"You're his favourite."

"Don't be idiotic."

"Don't be modest."

"Alright…He says the people are concerned that Louis has no heir." Athos hissed.

"But the Queen is preg—" D'Artagnan began, before he was hurriedly interrupted by the elder soldier.

"The people don't know yet. The nobility will be told at the ball and until then no one but us, the Captain, the Cardinal and the King and Queen know. The people still think that the Queen is childless and they are starting to blame her. They say that her father, the King of Austria, knew she was barren and arranged her marriage to Louis to spite France and strengthen his ties with Spain."

"That is utter lies! They can't possibly believe that." Aramis near-yelled. It angered him greatly, how the people had turned against her. She was a kind and gracious queen, who should not be blamed for something that was out of her control and it was not even a problem anymore, she was no longer childless.

She was pregnant.

The people would have what they wanted, an heir to the throne of France and the King's reign would be secure. If she had a son, that was. If the child was a girl, she would be passed off to a nursemaid, like nothing, and Anne pressured to conceive another child immediately after. That was if she survived childbirth.

No, thought Aramis hastily. He would not even think of such a thing. Losing Anne, even though she was not his, was unthinkable.

"Calm down, Aramis." D'Artagnan said. "The people of Paris will soon know that they were wrong to blame their Queen."

"D'Artagnan is right." Athos agreed. "But the Captain just wants to be certain that there will be no trouble at the ball."

Athos gave him a meaningful look. A look that said, 'and no trouble from you either'. Athos knew of Aramis' night with the Queen, and although it was obvious he disapproved, Athos had sworn never to speak of it, not even to Porthos and D'Artagnan.

"Well then. We had better drop off this drunkard and go find the spice merchant."

As soon as they had deposited Monsieur Lombard in the darkest, filthiest part of the prison dungeon, Aramis, Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan rode over to the little spice shop by the Sienne.

"This is supposed to be a secret meeting place for revolutionaries?" Asked D'Artagnan, as his eyes scanned the shelves full of pots of spices. "Appearances can be deceiving." Athos remarked cryptically, as he pushed his way through the store.

"It smells like feet in here." Porthos remarked, wrinkling his nose. Aramis shushed him. In the distance he heard a scuffling sound.

"Come out, Monsieur Rochelle we mean you no harm." Athos proclaimed. "I wouldn't promise that. Not after what Aramis did to the last man." D'Artagnan sniped.

They heard the sound of a door open.

"Great. You scared him, and now he's running." Aramis muttered as he shot to the other room at the end of the shop. When he reached the other room he saw a door wide open onto the street. Aramis spotted the back of a short bald man walking quickly down the alley.

"Rochelle! Stop!" He shouted. The man turned and as a soon as he set eyes on the musketeer changed his pace to a run.

"Damn you." He swore as he quickly followed the man.

This man was faster than Aramis had thought.

Rochelle ran through the alley into the street. He probably hoped to be lost in the crowd, but the soldier's keen eyesight caught him. Within a few moments his eyes found Rochelle. He was on his knees in an otherwise empty alley. Aramis assumed that the man had given up fleeing and was surrendering to arrest.

"This is the smart thing to do, Monsieur Rochelle. A few days in prison and then back to work. That doesn't sound too bad does it?" Aramis asked as he placed a hand on Rochelle's shoulder.

But he was unable to reply. His throat was slit open.

A deep red smile was cut across his throat. The attack must have been moments before because Rochelle was still alive; he was choking on his own blood and spluttering, but alive still.

Aramis knelt beside the dying man, taking hold of his shoulders and staring helplessly as the life left the man's eyes. Rochelle went limp and Aramis let his body fall back, there was nothing more he could do except watch.

"What on God's earth?" Gasped D'Artagnan, who had finally caught up with him.

"Someone killed him and it was not me." Aramis stated as he stood up, brushing off his knees.

"Then who?" The young Musketeer enquired. D'Artagnan was right. Who could possibly have been so fast? And why had they decided to kill Monsieur Rochelle?

"That, my young friend, is the question."

**A.N. Please review? It only takes a moment and it makes me happy, which makes me want to update fast. So really it's good for all of us. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: i do not own the show or any of its characters (too bad)**

**A.N. Super sorry about the delay, i was on holiday! Hope you like this chapter it is in Jocelyn's P.O.V. I know she is my own original character and not in the show but i hope you like her as much as i do. She will be an important character for the plot.**

**P.S. this chapter is dedicated to my friend sophie for her support and also to hellangel15 because her review was so sweet and really motivated me *hint hint*. Maybe that can be a thing? The person who puts the nicest review will get a chapter dedicated to them! :)**

"Don't you ever sleep, girl?" August, the cook asked as Jocelyn sat eating grapes on a stool in the kitchen.

"No, not really. Besides how could I possibly stay away from you when you flatter me so?" She replied, giving the man a wry smile.

Jocelyn enjoyed their banter; August was a crass man but at least he was honest about it, and honesty was a quality she respected. Especially after all the polite falseness she received from nobles that would never dare set foot in the servant's quarters. She liked rising at dawn and visiting August and the other servants. All of them were so interesting – they also knew almost everything that happened in the palace and Jocelyn found it useful to hear what they knew.

"Still, shouldn't you at least be fretting about what dress you are wearing to the ball? It's in two days time and from what I have heard it's going to be the event of the year." August said this in a dry manner, he and Jocelyn both knew that every upcoming event was the event of the year until it happened and then the next one was. Then again the nobles at court always did have a short memory.

"It is certainly going to be grand. As for my dress I shall have to order one after the queen has had her fitting."

Jocelyn had spent an hour the day before looking through the lists in the steward's office to finally find a new seamstress. She had ended up sending for the wife of a cloth merchant. Fontaine, the steward, had told her that this merchant's wife sometimes made dresses for his wife and her friends. She knew that this was a risk, having a middle-class merchant's wife to make the Queen's dress but Jocelyn had a feeling that it would all work out fine and Anne wanted something new.

That was basically Jocelyn's job as Anne chief lady-in-waiting. She served Anne, did what she wanted and what she needed, it was her duty to look after Anne and no one could say that she did not do that. After all she had left Austria with Anne to be her lady, leaving behind all she had known for a strange new life at a French court.

"Blimey girl! Cutting it a bit late aren't you? What if something happens? What is the queen going to do? Turn up to her own ball in her dressing gown?" The middle aged man let out a hearty laugh.

"Why don't you focus on your own work? I'm sure you will have to bake an awfully big cake." She replied, pinching more grapes only to have her hand slapped away.

"Stop your thieving and go and see to the Queen, she will be up soon. I would send some food up with you, but the Queen probably won't be hungry till later. She has been feeling a bit unwell in the mornings hasn't she?" August muttered the last sentence with a smile on his face as she led her to the stairs.

Jocelyn immediately turned and stared at him with a suspicious look on her face.

"What do you mean by that?" She saw a glimmer of knowledge. "Do you know something?"

"Of course I do. Do you think anything happens in this castle that I don't know about?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at Jocelyn knowingly.

"I don't know what you are talking about." She stated passively, not trusting herself enough to look him in the eyes.

"Well never mind. I suppose it will all be explained at the ball, now you go about your business, I have a feast to plan."

August was a mastermind when it came to cooking for a hundred people. Each culinary creation was better than the last, and Jocelyn could hardly wait to see his latest one.

Hastily picking up her skirts, Jocelyn waved goodbye to August and got a grunt in reply from the busy cook.

When she had climbed up the steps to the hall, Jocelyn realized it was far later than she had first thought, the sun now high in the sky, so she increased her pace to a run. Weaving her way past butlers and maids, she hurried to the queen's apartments where she was greeted by Melinda, who gave her a disdainful look.

"Her majesty has been waiting. Why she insists on seeing only you I will never know."

"It must be my cheerful disposition." Jocelyn countered with a scowl, and then continued. "Is the seamstress here yet?"

"Yes, she is down in the lounge. I suppose you will want me to send for her?" Melinda answered in a patronizing and altogether aggravating tone.

"If you would be so gracious." She replied, clenching her fists to stop her from slapping the smug grin off of Melinda's face. Usually Jocelyn could endure the harsh looks and cruel remarks from her fellow ladies, but today she simply couldn't be bothered. It had always been this way, the women of court always looked down on her, whether it was because they saw her as lower class or if it was because of the way she looked.

Even as a child Jocelyn had looked odd. Her bright red flame coloured hair and witchy green eyes were seen as unusual by most people. Growing up she had endured taunts from other children, of course this was before Anne had befriended her. After that no one dared displease the tiny princess, but still they had kept their distance. And when it came to deciding whether or not to go with Anne to Austria there had been no choice. She had no real family except her old grandmother, who had encouraged her to leave. The old woman had always been full of sage advice. One of her nuggets of wisdom had been to rise above petty jibes.

Gliding past Melinda and her fellow ladies to walk into Anne's chamber, she smiled when she saw her friend sitting at the table writing on a piece of parchment.

"Oh there you are, Jocelyn! I was wondering where you had gotten to," said Anne, for a moment forgetting her letter. "Where have you been?"

"Just for a walk your majesty, I must have lost track of time. May I ask whom you are writing to?" she enquired.

"Oh this? I am just listing names for the baby. What do you think?" Anne answered, holding the parchment for Jocelyn to take. As she scanned her eyes over the list of names, Jocelyn notice two things they all had in common. They were all of French origin. And there were only girl's names.

"They are all very nice, but why only girls names?"

"Well I know Louis hopes for a boy, but if the baby is a boy he will probably be named after his… father." Anne's cheek turned a shade pinker after she said the word father.

Jocelyn fought the frown that was trying to form.

It was times like this that Jocelyn fretted about, when it seemed as if Anne might let her secret slip. Jocelyn knew about Anne and the musketeer, of course. As soon as Anne had returned from the nunnery she had known. She had always been able to read her friend like a book, so she knew when she was hiding something. But it was only when she saw them together that she realized. Jocelyn was an observant person. She had noticed the stolen glances in each other's direction. Anne had confided in her what she thought of the handsome musketeer who had saved her life at the prison. At the time Jocelyn had thought that perhaps Anne had a small infatuation with this Aramis, it was easy to see why, compared to Louis and his childlike demeanor, almost any man was desirable, and she had presumed that this infatuation would fade, as all feelings do. But instead the feelings had progressed and now here they were, in a great deal of danger.

A knock on the door jolted Jocelyn from her worries, and when she looked to Anne she saw an expression of faint surprise, as if she too had been deep in thought.

"That will be the seamstress." Jocelyn guessed. And when the door was pulled open Jocelyn's eyes met with a pretty copper-haired young woman holding a long length of measuring tape in one hand and what looked like a drawing book in the other.

She looked absolutely terrified.

"Madame Bonacieux? Please come in, I am sorry if you had to wait a while." Jocelyn said in a soft voice, attempting to put the poor girl at ease.

"No. Well what I mean is that I wasn't waiting long." The Madame replied as she gazed around the ornate beautiful bedroom, with its gilded mirrors and huge window looking out to the sunny garden.

Jocelyn smiled as she watched the women walk forward in awe; she remembered when she first seen this room. She too had been in awe; whilst Anne's room at the palace in Austria had been beautiful, it was nowhere near as grand. Mrs Bonacieux stopped in the middle of the room and, when she saw Anne, she immediately sunk into a low curtsey.

"Your Majesty." She said softly, her voice a decibel higher revealing her anxiety.

"Please call me Anne," said Anne gracious as ever. She, like Jocelyn, was smiling at the seamstress' shy politeness.

"Your Ma- Anne. I am not sure why I am here. What I mean is…" She took a deep breath to calm her somewhat frayed nerves. "I am not a royal seamstress, not even a seamstress really. I just drew a few designs and made one or two gowns for my friends. I am not fit to dress a Queen."

"Jocelyn says that our steward's wife loved the dresses you made for her." Anne answered, as she took a step forward and held her hand out. "May I look at your drawings?"

Unable to refuse Madame Bonacieux held up the small drawing book, which Anne gently took.

"These are…amazing." Anne gasped as she leafed through the book.

Jocelyn let out a relieved breath, happy that her risk had paid off, while their nervous guest stood completely still and then, to the surprise of the two women, burst into tears.

"I am sorry…this is…very…" she gasped in between sobs.

"Overwhelming?" Jocelyn offered, making her way towards the weeping woman.

"Yes...no…well what I mean is… it's been a stressful time." She stifled a cry and tried to wipe her eyes.

"It's alright Miss Bonacieux." Anne said consolingly, and then she flashed Jocelyn a look of confusion.

"Please call me Constance. Oh, I am so sorry about this. It's just…I was so happy when you said you liked my drawings and the first person I wanted to tell was…the man I love."

"Ah… and this man is not your husband?" Anne asked quietly.

"No he is not." Shamed filled Constance's features as she gazed at her feet.

Silence file the room, Jocelyn could think of nothing to say. In fact if she opened her mouth she might very well laugh. The irony of this situation was…hilarious. Anne had had an affair with one of her husband's men and was now having his baby and well…Jocelyn had certainly made her own mistakes, ones she would rather not dwell on. The silence was becoming unbearable so Jocelyn said the first thing that entered her mind.

"Men, they can be such a hassle sometimes."

Anne let out a small laugh, Constance giggled quietly. Soon the three women were fighting tears of laughter.

"Can I look at your drawings?" Jocelyn asked, when they had all calmed down.

"Yes…I have only made a few of them. Some were just gowns I drew for fun, I knew it would be too expensive to make them. And when would I have worn them?" The merchant's wife said with a pitiful look.

"Anne was right these are wonderful." Jocelyn remarked as she gazed at the pictures. They were drawn in soft pencil then painted with colour. Blue, green even yellow. Every gown was different from the last, but all were beautiful and extravagant. Trimmed with gold cloth, lined with satin or hemmed with lace; these were certainly not dresses for a merchant's wife. But perhaps a Queen.

"Thank you. Which do you think you would want me to make?" She asked turning towards the Queen.

"Well…how about all of them?" Anne suggested smiling brightly.

"All of them? I-" Constance stopped abruptly, and looked so pale Jocelyn thought for a moment she might faint.

"You won't have to make them all now. Just two, one for Jocelyn and one for myself, but after do you think you could consider being my official seamstress? I will need several new dresses in the next few months." Anne explained, gesturing to the slight swell of her stomach under her loose linen night-gown.

"Oh my…" was all Constance could utter as she stared at the Queen.

"I don't suppose you make baby clothes?" Jocelyn asked jokingly.

**A.N. So what do you think? I know some of you may have seen this coming but bear with me there will be plenty of surprises! ;)**

**My next update may take a while because i have exams in like thirteen days and have to go into hardcore revision mode. Maybe i might possibly update in the next week or so but please be patient and as always...REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the musketeers but if I did...*sighs***

**A.N. I'm back! Exams are over and it's time to party! Or sit in my room and write, which is basically my version of ****partying. So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy :) This chapter is in Athos' P.O.V. because Aramis' thoughts would be far too squiggly to form a coherent chapter. Although I have not been writing I have been planning ahead so look forward to new developments! :) Until we meet again.**

After the mysterious murder of Monsieur Rochelle, Athos' week did not get any less interesting.

A search of the spice merchant's shop revealed an underground chamber connected to tunnels under the city. The chamber contained a menagerie of obscure plants and strange concoctions, which were proven to have effects that varied from euphoria to agony or even death. But the alchemist who had studied the bottles had only been able to identify a third of them and the ones he did were all dangerous and illegal.

It seemed that the simple merchant was not as innocent as one would think.

What had started a as a simple arrest and detainment was becoming more and more complicated, but fortunately Athos and his fellow musketeers were relieved of this problem by the large amount of training that Treville demanded before the ball. The subject of Rochelle's nefarious dealings would have to be forgotten for the time being.

"Aramis against D'Artagnan now," declared Captain Treville, from the balcony above the courtyard where the soldiers were training.

Porthos got up from the ground where he lay and brushed himself off, he looked embarrassed.

He had a right to be. Aramis had bested him almost immediately, with a thinly veiled ferocity that Athos recognised in himself and, if he was right, this was probably due to the impending ball. From what Porthos had heard from a flirty scullery maid, this ball was planned entirely for the purpose of announcing that the King would soon have an heir.

"Do me a favour D'Artagnan? Knock him on his arse." Porthos grumbled as walked to the side of the courtyard, to lean heavily against a wall near Athos.

"Will do," was D'Artagnan's only reply as he withdrew his sword and prepared his stance for an attack.

Aramis raised his sword and began to move, circling his opponent. Then he attacked, lunging forward so fast that D'Artagnan barely had a chance to parry his blow. But he did.

A clash of metal rang through the air and the force of their blows pushed their swords upwards. Aramis took this moment to kick D'Artagnan in the gut, making him wince and gasp for breath. Taking advantage of this moment of vulnerability, he pushed back their swords, loosening D'Artagnan's grip and making his sword fall from his hands. But for Aramis this did not seem enough; he threw the younger musketeer to the ground and pointed his sword at is throat, right above the jugular.

Athos watched his friend stand above D'Artagnan showing no sign of moving. He would have to speak up. But before Athos could summon the words, Captain Treville's voice echoed across the yard.

"Aramis! Enough! Remember the difference between comrade and combatant!" He yelled.

Instantaneously Aramis, overcome with regret, sheathed his sword and held out a hand to his fallen friend.

"My apologies, I do not know what came over me." Aramis said as he pulled D'Artagnan up off the ground.

"It is all fine. I just wish that I could have gotten in one good hit." D'Artagnan clutched his ribs tenderly.

"Well if we had fought fairly then you might have even won." Aramis chuckled, his cheerful demeanour returning to him.

But Athos was still very worried.

Worrying was something Athos did very well.

He had worried about Milady and the Cardinal, D'Artagnan's reckless youth and even Porthos' colourful past, but Athos had never really needed to worry about Aramis. Sadly after recent events, events that could results in Aramis and Athos' own demise, Athos had been forced to resume his worries on a whole new level.

Of all the women to seduce, Aramis just had to set his sights on the Queen .

Obviously Athos could acknowledge the Queen's beauty. But it was one thing to look, another to bed her. Athos just could not understand how Aramis could be so blind as to see the danger he was putting everyone around him in.

If the worst happened and the King learnt of the forbidden tryst then the Queen would either be sent to a convent or much more likely beheaded for treason. It had been done before. Well, not in France, but some king in England had sentenced two of his wives to death.

As for himself and Aramis they would be hung, drawn and quartered. He had seen it happen to only France's worst and it was not a pretty sight.

But they were the only people who knew this ungodly secret so as long as the most rash among them kept his mouth shut then all would be well. Athos had hoped. A hope it seemed that was short lived.

Soon there would be a child involved.

Six years the Queen had been childless but after one night with Aramis, she was with child, and that made the whole situation so much more…difficult. Although it was easy to notice Aramis was pained having to watch Anne all day with her husband, he was able to withstand it because she was happy and provided for. But Athos knew Aramis.

He was stubborn and foolhardy, but also proud and honourable. Having to watch his child grow up without his real father yet seeing him every day as a lowly soldier, possibly never even knowing his name, well that was something no man would be able to stand, yet alone a man like Aramis.

The only thing Athos could do was try to discourage any action from Aramis, starting with the ball.

"Aramis, if I could have a word…about the ball." Athos covered his ulterior motives with a half truth.

Aramis stepped away from a laughing Porthos and made his way to the table Athos was now placed at.

"What is it Athos? Porthos was in the middle of telling me of the time he and Flea stole an old man's wooden leg while he-" but Athos never did hear the end of that sentence because he interrupted Aramis with a hasty inquiry.

"I need to know if I should be worried tomorrow. Will you be able to control your actions or should I tie you up and tell Treville you are ill?"

"Tie me up? Ah I have been asked that many times but sadly Athos I must decline. This ball shall be teeming with pretty young ladies who will be looking for a dashing man to sweep them off their feet. And besides you are not my type." Aramis said breezily.

Athos would have thought Aramis back to his old self if not for his eyes.

His eyes held something in them that, until recently, Athos had seen in his own eyes. The kind of deep, hidden sadness that came from losing something very dear. Or someone.

"Aramis, please be honest. Save the acts for those who do not know your true emotions and their cause. Even though this is not the place to speak of it, you must know you can talk to me."

Aramis' face lost its mask of humour very quickly and afterwards it was hard to see how Aramis could have been fooling anybody. The man looked truly in pain.

For a long time Athos sat with his brother-in-arms, silence only amplifying the pain of both past and present. When Aramis did finally speak it was only to reassure Athos.

"You need not worry about my intentions for tomorrow's ball for I shall spend the evening devoted only to my duties…as a musketeer. I will do what is expected of me and nothing else."

"And how long will you be able to do that?" Athos inquired.

He knew the energy it took to devote oneself to appearing unaffected by pain and focusing on the duty at hand, it was exhausting, but made bearable by having friends to divert thoughts.

"As long as she needs me." Aramis answered.

"Very good. You are doing the right thing."

"No." Aramis said sharply.

"Pardon?" What did he mean no? Athos pondered internally.

"I am not doing the right thing. The safe, sensible decision but not the right one. The right thing to do would be to go to the king and confess my crime, then accept what punishment he chooses. Most definitely death but at least then I could claim my love and my unborn child!" Aramis hissed.

"I should not have to whisper the truth! And that truth is that I, Aramis the unworthy musketeer, am completely and truly in love with the woman carrying my child and I may never be able to admit this, even to her!"

"You-" Athos began.

"I know what you are going to say. That I've said this before and how can I know that it won't fade? Let me tell you that when I was with those women it was like I was flying, a kind of plighted feeling. Joyous yet fleeting. But Anne." Aramis smiled. "Well this is…it's like I'm drowning and she is air. So close but so far away and when I look at her…I can hardly breathe…I'd give it all up. The women, the drinking, dear god even being a musketeer. I would give it all up just to be with her for but a moment."

"Aramis… you do not need to justify. I saw it the second I looked into your eyes."

Aramis raised his brow slightly.

"Saw what?" He asked curiously.

"The pain that love brings. You, my friend are a man very much in love and I doubt that this is the end of it. I doubt it very much." It seemed to Athos that he must indeed continue to worry.

**A.N. I love reviews like Aramis loves Anne so please comment! also I have a question. Who do you prefer? The Candlemakers widow or Flea? Just curious ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The Musketeers**

**Authors Note: I am soooooooo sorry about the lack of updates! My internet has been a fickle bitch and I am so sorry :( But please forgive me and expect more soon. This chapter is in Jocelyn's P.O.V. and I know some of you may not like her but she's kind of my hand in the story. Y'know pushing people together and helping her friends. Also I would love to hear you're opinion of her as a character, your thoughts will not go unheard!**

Jocelyn P.O.V.

The days before the upcoming ball were so hectic, that Jocelyn barely had a moment alone with Anne, which was probably for the best. The more time she spent with the Queen, the more Jocelyn worried for her. The rest of her Majesty's ladies attributed the Queen's change in demeanour to the stress of the upcoming ball and her condition. Only her most trusted companion was fully aware of why she had suddenly become so prone to sudden bouts of weeping.

She was in despair.

Although Anne did not openly tell her friend everything, Jocelyn knew that Anne had trouble sleeping and the upcoming ball was the source of so much stress. But for all the wrong reasons.

Aramis.

Over the last few days Jocelyn had began to think of that name as a curse word, for all the pain it had caused her dear friend. The man who had sworn to protect the King and Queen was instead the cause of all the latter's pain. Jocelyn was beginning to feel some very negative feelings towards the entire musketeers regiment. She had always been very protective of Anne, the way a mother lioness feels towards her cub, and if that overly-romantic Spaniard did not stay out of her way he would be very much in danger of being mauled.

Not literally, of course but Jocelyn was willing to go to lengths to protect her close friend from any further pain that man could cause.

And now, the night of the dreaded ball, Jocelyn was preparing to scout the scene for any problems that could occur in the hours before Her Royal Highness would make her entrance. Smoothing the folds of her dove grey dress, she sighed and entered through the side entrance of the great hall where none would notice her approach.

Jocelyn had been a guest at many balls, due to her childhood with Anne, so many that they all seemed to blend together. All thrown for no reason other than to show off the excess that royals have. As a lady-in-waiting to Anne, she had set aside her views on the extravagant French nobility and persevered through all manner of parties, becoming somewhat immune to the lavishness.

But tonight the palace took her breath away.

She knew the servants had been working tirelessly day and night preparing the great hall for the festivities, but she had no idea it would be this magnificent.

The already beautiful palace had been gilded with silk ribbons of silver and royal blue, the floor polished until it gleamed and a crystal chandelier hoisted up above the dance floor, glimmering brightly as the candlelight shone on the mother of pearl fixtures that dangled from the ceiling. This gorgeous room was peopled with elegantly dressed noblemen and women, some standing talking to one another but most were twirling around the room dancing.

"Or at least what they called dancing." Jocelyn muttered to herself. She knew that if people saw this they would burst out laughing. The stiff cordial movements made them look like china dolls being moved round; she was used to a more free, lively way of dancing when she did choose to dance. Of her own free will. She had on occasion been coerced into the festivities by either Anne's encouragement or a gentleman's offer; this was something she would endeavour to avoid tonight.

Tearing her eyes away from the general splendour, her emerald eyes scanning the room as she circulated the room. She spotted the King sitting at a table with the Cardinal, both of whom had made their entrance earlier. Seated with them was Captain Treville, who was wearing his finest uniform, the blue being mirrored around the room by the musketeers. Remembering her reasons for entering early, Jocelyn set her eyes on the musketeer leaning haphazardly against a pillar almost completely hidden.

Good.

Jocelyn made her way to a corner across the room where she could observe the man without drawing notice. Hiding was something she was very good at.

For almost an hour she stood unnoticed by anyone simply watching her subject, who showed no signs of moving except from his eyes which weaved among the guest but always glanced to the door.

Just when Jocelyn thought that perhaps Aramis the musketeer would be able to control himself, she saw something in the corner of her eye.

Turning to the left she saw Constance, the newly christened Queen's seamstress and her husband, a weasel-like man. Happy to see someone whom she thought of as a friend, she made her way towards the empty plaza where Constance was, smiling.

But as she moved towards the doors she saw that Constance and her husband seemed to be in a heated discussion. The brunette was shaking her head slightly, with eyes that seemed to be gleaming with tears that threatened to escape while her husband was whispering harshly and clenching his fists. Then it seemed that Madame Bonacieux had crossed a line because what Jocelyn could see of the Monsieur's face turned red and he reached forward to grasp his wife's wrist tightly, his nails digging into her already pale skin.

Despite having stalked a man to prevent any kind of incident, Jocelyn now made her way towards the angry couple with them intention of breaking them apart forcefully if needs be.

But someone else arrived first.

The young musketeer who she remembered from fighting that monster of the Cardinal's. D'Artagnan possibly?

The young man pushed his way between the pair and grabbed the rat-faced Bonacieux by his collar. The look in his eyes was one of pure rage.

The two men looked as if they were about to drop to the ground and beat one another, but gladly Jocelyn witnessed three musketeers hastily pull their friend from the object of his fury.

"Get that scoundrel away from me! He is lucky I didn't thrash him. How such as short tempered fool became a musketeer I will never know!" Constance's husband yelled but luckily his voice was drowned out by the music and chatter of the other guests.

Walking throughout the door and signalling that the doormen to shut it discreetly, Jocelyn entered the situation abruptly.

Placing a hand on the shoulder of the "rat-man", who jumped slightly. Jocelyn began:

"Monsieur Bonacieux what an unforeseen guest! To what pleasure do we owe this?"

With all eyes on her she continued.

"For when I sent for your wife, I meant for her to do a last fitting on Her Majesty's dress and not to enjoy the revels. Sadly I fear there has been a miscommunication, but I am sure that if it could all be forgotten, if you would simply forgive this oversight and resume whatever plans you had for the evening?" She knew this speech was rude but Jocelyn felt, better rude than violent.

"Oh… well…that's…" But he was lost for words.

Jocelyn smiled politely and ushered the fool to the door where he promptly left without so much as a word to his wife.

As soon as his antagonist left, D'Artagnan was released by his companions who still stood close to him watching him for signs of violence.

Suddenly remembering her friend, who had begun to sob, she turned towards Constance.

"Would you like to go to the antechamber? My fellow ladies will sit with you until the Queen is ready." Her tone changed from false and polite to sincere and kind.

She was desperate to get this vulnerable, young woman away from her present company.

Couldn't any of these men stay away from married women? Jocelyn had spent the night worrying about one musketeer in particular, when she should have been watching the whole lot of them.

Glancing towards the young musketeer, who seemed to be the centre of this particular incident, she noticed D'Artagnan was moving towards Constance as if to speak to her.

"In fact I will accompany you to the royal apartments myself, it is almost time for the Queen's entrance." And to avoid any further discussion she ushered her newfound friend down the hall, but not before shooting a sharp look towards the men and hissing.

"Shouldn't you be inside? There's no one else for you to assault here."

Taking in the surprised looks from those she had addressed, Jocelyn turned and led the still somewhat distressed lady with her.

"Now what was all that about?" She asked once the musketeers were out of earshot.

"Well…When I told my husband about my new employment he…well he was not as happy as I would have wished. In fact he thought that I was lying and that I was really continuing my…tryst." At the last word Constance's face filled with shame. Although she had given away her affair, Constance had not told Anne nor Jocelyn that her love was a musketeer or that he husband knew.

"So your affair was with a musketeer? How odd." Jocelyn was glad that the hallway, she and her friend were walking down, was dimly lit otherwise Constance would certainly have seen her brief smile. The irony of this entire situation was astonishing.

"Yes…I was in love with D'Artagnan…But it ended badly and now my husband has made things even worse." The brunette wiped her eyes of the remaining tears.

"How so?" Her curiosity got the best of her.

"He gets so angry, he never used to be like this but… he has been under a lot of stress lately from his work and…He's scaring me." Constance whispered the last sentence.

"Oh dear. Well if you truly wish to leave him-" She began.

"No no! I couldn't! He says he would kill himself, he has tried it before, even if he did not, my family would disown me. No. It will get better. It has to." She managed a small smile in the hopes of comforting both herself and her friend.

"Very well…But still my offer stands if you ever wish to leave him I know a place you can stay. I will write the address down for you later. Just in case." As they turned the last corner, Jocelyn stopped and began.

"I feel that I should warn you before we enter, that Her Majesty has been rather emotional. It may be best not to mention your current personal situation." Now that she knew Constance had been, and possibly still was, involved with a musketeer, who was friends with Aramis, the whole situation had suddenly become more complicated. The risk of discovery was not the only problem. The way Anne had been acting…It worried Jocelyn. If she continued to stress over her predicament she could harm herself and the baby.

Jocelyn would have to come up with some way to defuse the situation, and soon.

"You look very beautiful tonight." Constance voiced smiling, pulling Jocelyn from her worries.

She looked down at her pale grey dress.

Jocelyn had always favoured neutral colours, quiet and calm like her, she did not like to stand out. She kept her vibrant red hair in a bun with only a few wild strands escaping and never wore jewellery except her mother's silver pendant, the only link she had to her.

"Thank you. Your designs are wonderful especially at such short notice, but wait until you see Anne."

She gestured to the doorman to open the entrance of the Royal chamber.

**A.N. Please read and review in is in your own interest as it motivates me.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Disclaimer: Much to my continual sorrow, I sadly do not own The Musketeers or any of its characters.**

**I know! I know! It's been a WHILE. I don't know what to say other than that I lost the muse and anything I would have published would have been no good. But now I have the muse back and hope that there are a few loyal readers out there who will forgive me and continue to read and review. Anyhoo this chapter is in Anne's P.O.V. and I really hope you like it. There will be more.**

_**Anne P.O.V.**_

"Where have you been?" Melinda hissed as she quietly leaned out the door talking to someone Anne could not see.

"Getting the seamstress." Hissed an equally hostile voice that Anne recognised as her friend's.

"Let her in, Melinda." She said quietly. Lack of sleep over the past few nights had taken its toll. All Anne wanted to do was rest but recently her dreams had been so frightful that Anne was afraid to even shut her eyes.

Visions of an intruder in her room,or a presence outside her window, something close-by that wanted only one thing. To do her harm. In her dreams Anne felt a presence so hateful and evil that it made her shake. Not only had she needed to have a candle lit all night to even get a few minutes shut eye, Anne even felt herself missing the days before her marriage when she and Jocelyn would share a room. Sharing long talks and telling stories, well Jocelyn would. Anne had never been a good storyteller, she had preferred listening. The days when they were both children, not a princess and a-

"Majesty?" Constance's timid voice inquired. "You should probably try on your gown now. If the measurements I took were exact enough, then there should be no need for alterations."

"If?" Melinda said snidely. "Well, I suppose this is what happens when you hire a common merchants wife."

"Coming from the girl who can't even sew." Jocelyn remarked.

"Why would I need to? A noble woman has no need to make or mend her clothing, only commoners do. I suppose you can?" There was a cruel tinge to these words.

This conversation had been occurring while Constance had, with the help of two servants, been lifting the heavy dress over Anne's carefully done hair and at that quiet moment it looked as if Jocelyn might actually attack Melinda. But from the look on Constance's disappointed face, she had not. Jocelyn looked away from her adversary, took a deep breath and came to assist the seamstress with her work.

"Your Majesty you look beautiful." Jocelyn said kindly. When with among others Jocelyn spoke formally, but when alone they conversed as equals.

"Thank you, Jocelyn. This is marvellous work, Constance." Anne smiled briefly but it did not reach her eyes. Although the deep royal blue silk and silver lace was exquisite Anne could not show her admiration as strongly as she could have wished.

"Thank you, Majesty." She replied smiling brightly.

"If everything is ready Your Majesty, you really should make your entrance now." Jocelyn advised.

"Yes, I suppose I should prepare myself." Anne plastered a courtly smile on her face and moved towards the exit of her royal chambers. Gliding down the corridor with Jocelyn at her side and her other ladies walking a few paces behind, when they finally reached the entrance to the royal hall Anne paused and sighed.

"I don't suppose I could say I am ill and avoid this whole debacle?" She whispered to her friend by her side.

A ghost of a smile came across Jocelyn's face as she replied.

"I believe you attendance to your own ball is necessary, Majesty. Besides if the people hear you are with child and, also ill, their response could be...unfavourable."

"I suppose you are right. In fact I know you are right and I hate you for it." Anne whispered back smiling at their familiar way of talking.

Her friend chuckled and inquired.

"Will Constance be permitted to stay overnight? It's getting late." She added.

"Yes, of course. The servants should have a room made ready for her."

"Thank you." Jocelyn offered. Then the second she had finished she gestured to the doorman who opened the door to the gleaming silver and blue world beyond.

About two hours or so into the festivities and Anne felt as if she was going to scream.

Her head ached and fatigue weighed her eyes. Even her ankles throbbed, despite having been seated for most of the evening. Almost instantly after entering the grand hall, she had been ushered to a gilded throne beside Louis. Despite his wide smile when he saw her, Anne only feigned a smile back. Years of being the King's wife had taught her that her husband's attentions were only fleeting. She could still recall those first few months of wedded bliss. Louis had been attentive and kind, making her laugh and blush. The small flutters of genuine love and adoration for him had been well received and she truly believed they were happy. But after time Anne could feel a change. His words were fewer and less colourful, he began to prefer other women's company and he even suggested that she be removed to her own apartments across the palace. His sudden change all but broke her heart, and ever since she had accepted his brief affections with a masked smile and a cold heart.

Now seated next to her King, Anne received a plethora of noble well-wishers. all of them ecstatic at the news they had received moments after her arrival. Lords and ladies all hurried to bestow their kind words. Their King was glad to accept their attention, he thrived on the attention. One Duke praised the King on his virility and Anne had to fight a smirk. Her dutiful lady was not so fortunate. Jocelyn covered her laugh with a cough and excused herself for a drink.

After the exit of her friend and confidant Anne had lost almost all of her energy and could barely manage the to reply to her gracious guests. While trying to pay attention to one particularly dull Baroness, Anne saw a flash of blue that made her heart skip a beat. Briefly glancing up Anne caught a glimpse of a Musketeer's face. _Her Musketeer. _

Any fatigue Anne felt was gone from the rush of feeling she could feel forming a knot in the bottom of her stomach. Although she knew better. Anne prayed for some glance that might show her just how Aramis felt. Unlike Louis he was hard to read. He was the kind of man who showed his emotions through his eyes. He could be feeling love or hate or grief, but one would only know if they gazed into his deep chestnut eyes. As if it was a gift from the heavens. Aramis' and her own eyes met. As they stared at one another, Anne felt someone must notice the connection between them. It was so tangible that one must be able to feel it in the air. In all her life she had never felt such love between two people. She could only pray that if he felt this love for her, that it would be more constant than her husbands.

The thought of her husband made Anne feel intense guilt. She had been raised a catholic woman, and although not devout. she knew that what she was doing- what she was _feeling _was wrong. She was betraying her King _and_ her husband. If her treason was ever known, she would suffer terribly. Anne couldn't bear to think of the acts done to her or the man she loved. Even to their child. Anne knew Louis was not a man to spare the innocent when he was wronged. The thought of the unborn baby in her belly paying for her sins made her looks away from her paramour, tears threatening to spread hot trails down her cheeks.

"Your Majesty?"

Anne turned her head to the origin of these words.

"Are you well?" Melinda asked with a look that verged on concern.

"Yes, I am just tired. I think I may retire now-" Anne's sentence was interrupted by a voice beside her.

"Retire?! To bed? Nonsense! The feast is about to be announced. You can't leave. What would our guests think? No, you must stay for at least three courses." Louis' voice was playful but with an underlying tone that she knew better than to trifle with. The King gets what he wants.

"Very well husband." Anne said trying to seem enthusiastic.

After Louis announced the feast and all the guests had followed them into the dining hall, Anne sat at the had of the table with Louis. Her unease had subsided knowing that Aramis was on the other side of the door. Close enough that she felt his presence like a calmness, but far enough that he was not watching her with his soulful eyes that had nearly pushed her to tears.

When all the guests were seated and their glasses filled, the courses began.

Various fine dishes were carried in and laid out before a wide-eyed groups of nobles. Each guest sampled all and would go away from the night fuller than they had ever been. The King especially. Louis ate his weigh in duck and after professing how he could not consume another bite, ate almost an entire wing of the beautiful meringue swan with sugared almond feathers and dotted with sweet raspberries. Anne would have to remind herself to tell Jocelyn to thank August for his pains. Her head lady-in-waiting had been absent since her exit hours earlier. Although she though the swan her royal cook had created was exquisite, Anne could not consume a bite of anything. Her stomach was so unsettled that she was happy to simple watcher guests delighted faces. Or at least she would have been.

"Anne you must try the bird!" Louis had exclaimed loudly. His volume had drawn the notice of all in the room meaning she would have to comply or it would not only be an insult but a sign of her ill health. So, like the royal she was, Anne swallowed her pride and a large portion of the fine creatures head.

The second the last bite was consumed Anne knew she had made a mistake. It was all she could do to hold the nausea at bay until the guests began to filter out of the room and to their carriages. The King extolled his never-ending love and exited clutching his stomach as if he were the one with-child. One word to her ladies saw that she could flee to the patio without their company.

Grasping her skirts, she barely made it to the bushes before Anne emptied the contents of her stomach onto the green foliage. For several minutes she was so taken with sickness she was oblivious to all around her. A few moments after she could expel no more of the god-forsaken bird, she became aware of a presence behind her.

Turning abruptly she was greeted with the worried face of no other than the father of her child and the love her life.

"Aramis." she gasped, while hastily trying to wipe the remnants of bile from her lips.

**A.N. Okay so I know I have been a real crappy writer what with the months of absence but if you would like to review with your opinion I would be so happy. Also i know Anne is technically Spanish and Spain at the time owned Austria or something****, but for the purpose of this story let's just say she is Austrian. And again REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own The Musketeers or any of it's characters**

**A.N. Hi! It's me again! I'm back so soon! This is the chapter everyone has been waiting for I think. Also a bonus bit!**

**Aramis P.O.V.**

Aramis was in shock.

All evening Anne had seem fine, smiling serenely at her noble subjects. Laughing at the Kings's every word. If he had not know better he would have assumed that she was completely and utterly happy. Perhaps she was. Maybe she had used him to give her the child that her husband could not, and now she wished to discard him and forget their night of passion.

Aramis had shaken his head to remove these thoughts, that could not be true. His kind sweet Anne could never be so cruel and callous with another's emotions. Aramis could have sworn that when their eyes had me, he had seen love in her beautiful grey eyes. But perhaps that had just been the reflection of his. He knew he must have been mistaken when her eyes glazed over and she looked away with an emotion on her face Aramis could have spotted a mile off.

Shame.

So, after the party had ended, when Aramis had heard retching noises out on the patio, he had assumed that it was a drunken partygoer. He was beyond surprised when he saw Anne rising weakly from the stooped position in which she had been vomiting. His first thoughts were full of panic. Was she ill? Was their child ill? How could he help her?

In his worried state of mind he had hardly noticed that he was moving closer to her. It was until she became aware of him and turned exclaiming, that he had woken as if from a dream.

"Aramis!" A look of embarrassment brought colour to her otherwise terribly pale face. Wiping her mouth she averted her eyes.

"Ann- _Your majesty_, are you well?" Aramis tried to remember himself wile still in a haze of panic.

"Yes. I just...felt a sickness. I only need to get some water." Anne picked up her skirts as if to leave.

"No! I mean. Please sit, I shall go and get you a drink. Just please...rest."

Shocking himself with his urgent tone, he was surprised when Anne sat down and allowed him to briefly run and fetch a glass of water from a pitcher inside the hall.

Upon his return Anne was still seated on the ornate stone bench by the fountain. Aramis was shocked by how she could be both ill and beautiful. Her pale skin shone in the moonlight. It's glow adding to her blue and silver gown, making her look like some ethereal beauty. A goddess among mortals. Remembering his purpose he walked forwards and offered her the glass.

Her dainty hands reached out and took the glass, her fingers clutched it as she brought it to her lips.

While she drank, Aramis examined her face further. Although deathly pale her skin glowed, but was unable to mask the shadows under her eyes. His worries about her health increased.

"You looked tired, Your Majesty-" Aramis voiced but was cut off be his Queen's tired voice.

"Please...don't call me that. Call me by my name. You have earned that right." She commented while placing the half empty glass down beside her.

"Anne...Have you been sleeping?"

Her beautiful eyes looked away from him as she whispered.

"No. I haven't been sleeping...or at least not much. I find myself awakened by nightmares. I'm so tired." Anne's voice nearly broke during the last sentence. Her eyes filling with tears.

Aramis sad down beside her and took her into his arms, she leant into his chest with her head against his pounding heart. He gently held her, stroking her head while the tears continued to stream. When her sobs had died down, he finally voiced his thoughts.

"I am so sorry for all the pain I have brought you. I wish I could take it all back."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Aramis felt Anne tense. Sniffling she rose her head and stared at him with her puffy tear stained eyes.

"What do you mean take it back?" Her voice had a hurt tone.

"I only meant that-" Aramis rushed to speak.

"That our night together was a mistake? That you regret it? That you regret our child?" Anne hissed the last words, extricating her arms, rising abruptly and moving towards the door.

Aramis followed her quickly catching up to her.

"No! You are mistaken. I only meant that I regret bringing you pain, causing your sickness and endangering your life." Anne turned and he grasped her shoulders pulling her towards him.

"I do not regret the night we shared, the child within you or the love I feel for the both of you." All the words and feelings Aramis had been holding back suddenly rushed up.

"I know I should not speak this way. I know that it is dangerous and what we did was treason but-" Aramis' words were interrupted by the most unexpected but well received response. Anne reached up on her toes, wrapped her arms arounds his neck and kissed him. A kiss so full of passion and urgency that in that moment he knew, Anne loved him just as much as he loved her. All the things in between them melted away and all that was left was them. For several wonderful moments they stayed in their embrace until Anne pulled away abruptly.

Thinking their moment has passed and all the worries and fears had come rushing back to her, making her remember herself, Aramis was shocked by the smile of joy on her face.

"What is it?" Anne's smile was infectious and he felt his own lips spreading in a bemused smile.

"Come. Feel." Anne reached out and took his hand, placing it on her round stomach.

Waiting in confused silence, Aramis almost pulled his hand away in surprise when he felt a small flutter underneath his hand. Somewhere underneath the silk and lace, a baby was kicking. His baby.

"Do you feel it?" Anne said laughing.

Aramis looked up at her smiling face and replied.

"Yes,. This is amazing. He's going to be strong."

"He?" Anne inquired in a playful tone. "What makes you think the baby is a boy?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling. Not that it matters, boy or girl, just as long as it's healthy."

At the mention of health Anne looked away.

"Is that what you are worried about?" Aramis asked. "What happened before...it won't happen again."

"No, it's not that. At least, it past the time that I need to worry too much. The doctors have told me I am not in danger of losing the baby."

"Then what is it?" Something had to be worrying her.

"I just...I don't feel safe. It's not just that Louis could find out and we could be charged with treason. But also...I feel as if I am being watched. That's what my dreams are about. Someone sneaking into my room and watching me. The second I wake I look around as if to see someone at the foot of my bed." Anne's voice was only a whisper but Aramis could feel the fear in her voice.

"Anne, please try to calm yourself." He took her into his arms and put his hands on either side of het face.

"I will never, let anyone hurt you. You are safe. I am going to spend the rest of my life protecting you and our child. _Don't ever forget that_. _No matter what._" The words that flew from his mouth were so sincere and believable that it brought Anne to tears.

"What would I do without you?" She asked, choking back a sob.

"I pray you may never need to find out."

They stood in their embrace for a long time. Until the doors onto the patio were opened by a pair of worried faces.

Athos and the red-haired girl who had scolded Aramis and his friends earlier, were both standing side by side with disapproving looks on their faces.

Aramis unwillingly pulled away from Anne, separating himself from her except for his hand tenderly resting on her arm. Aramis looked away from the pair at the door and turned to Anne.

"I have to go now. Rest please, and remember what I said. I will keep you safe but you have to do something for me." He said in hushed tones.

"Anything." Anne replied.

"Look after yourself. You need to stop worrying and be happy. Please be happy. Do this for me." He pleaded.

"Yes, I will. I promise." She agreed. "Aramis?" She asked when he began to walk away.

"Yes?"

She walked forward to him and whispered in his ear.

"I love you. Truly I do."

He smiled and replied.

"As I love you my Queen."

Without another word Anne was ushered away to her bed by her fierce lady and Aramis was dragged away by an equally angry Athos.

**Unknown P.O.V.**

At the far edge of the garden, A pair of stranger stood. Hidden by the trees, they stood watching the proceedings. One fixed their cold eyes on the pair, but focused on the Queen. While the other surveyed the surroundings to keep watch for guards.

"We cannot remain here, it is too dangerous. Returning to the palace repeatedly only increases the risk of discovery." The lookout's gravelly voice announced.

"No need to worry. We will only need to return once more. It's time." Replied the clear voice of the leader.

Turning for one last glance at the couple's bittersweet exit. The leader smirked and remarked.

"Ah love...it never lasts. At least this one won't."

Then as silently as they had entered, the pair fled into the night.

**A.N. Okay... anyone hate me? Well too bad. How dull would this story be if it was all smooth sailing? Well if you want that go read some one shot fluff. Because this is multi chapter angsty stuff with as many twists as a roller coaster. So strap in! Oh and please review, if i spend time reading reviews then I'm not planning character deaths or sudden twists. :P**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**D****isclaimer: Still don't own The Musketeers or it's affiliated characters.**

**A.N. Okay so I know you must all hate me right now. Sorry I have been real busy at the moment. But I haven't forgotten about you guys. I hope you like this. It was a hard chapter to write sort of a Musketeers CSI.**

**Athos P.O.V.**

Rising from his bed the morning after the royal ball, Athos was beginning to worry for his health.

Having spent the entirety of the previous night watching Aramis like a hawk, only to have him disappear just when he thought he was out of danger, the lead Musketeer was about to give up. There was a part of him, the part that feared for the lives of all involved in this _affair_, that wanted to beat his foolish friend senseless for having not-so-secret garden dalliances.

The sheer lack of secrecy!

It scared him. If anyone else have walked out onto that patio...He shuddered at the thought. But despite himself, there was also a part of him, a romantic part, one that he had kept hidden ever since his ill-fated marriage to a psychotic murderer.

Even though Milady had lied and manipulated him, he had truly loved her. No matter how short lived it had been, Athos knew what it was to be in love. It was crazy and uncontrollable, not something that could be easily ignored. The memory of his love made his mind go back to the night before and an encounter with a particularly _interesting_ woman.

_Shortly after the party had come to an end, when Porthos had just convinced Athos that what D'Artagnan needed was to go and get a stiff drink. He had decided to stay behind with Aramis, reentering the hall looking for his friend._

_Upon entering he saw the lady-in-waiting from earlier who had scolded them and dealt with Monsieur Bonacieux so effectively._

_Perched precariously on her tiptoes, she seem to be peering behind the heavy tapestries to look through the window behind it. Approaching silently he observed her. Quite tall, a slim figure clad in a plain grey dress. The simple colour brought out her flame red hair._

_"Who are you spying on?" He inquired when within earshot._

_His voice echoed in the empty hall, startling her. Turning abruptly, she knocked a small table beside her with a glass pitcher on it. Athos reached out at precisely the right moment and caught it before it was able to clatter on the hard marble floor. _

_"A Musketeer should know better than to sneak up on a woman, and I wasn't spying...I was observing." Her clear green eyes fixed on him with a haughty look._

_"Apologies I did not mean to startle or insult you. Tell me who are you...observing_?"_ He emphasized the last word._

_The look on her face made him suspect he already knew who was out there. A sudden seriousness came over him._

_He no longer saw a pretty face, but a threat. If another person knew of Aramis and the Queen's secret affair. _

_What was the saying? A chain is only as strong as it's weakest link. Was she the weak link? Athos had to be careful how he phrased his next sentence._

_"Have you seen my comrade?" He asked slowly._

_"Aramis?" The lady, whose name he could not recall, frowned when she uttered the name, a look of disapproval on her face._

_Athos knew they were both dancing around the subject. He knew that she knew and she knew he did also. One of them would have to take the first step. It was her._

_"Yes...He is outside with Anne. I wanted to go out and stop them before they got caught but...well come and see for yourself." She gestured for Athos to come closer and moved the tapestry to the side so that he could see out._

_The sight he was greeted with was one that warmed his heart. The Soldier and the Queen held in an embrace, perfectly still, just holding each other. They both seemed completely at ease. In that moment they were not complicated, just a man holding the woman he loved._

_"As you can see, I thought I'd give them a moment. She's been so tired...I thought this might help." Athos turned towards the beautiful woman beside him. She was smiling slightly, quite unaware of her loveliness._

_"Yes, I suppose they deserve a few minutes. He has been stressed as well. Might I ask your name lady? I can't seem to recall it"_

_"That would be because we have never spoken before. I'm not usually in the habit of talking with Musketeers. At least I didn't used to be. I suppose now circumstance dictates." The still nameless woman was beginning to frustrate him with her unwillingness to answer his question._

_"Your name fair lady?" He decided to use some of the charm he still had from his noble days._

_"You can stop that now. Your sweet nothings won't work on me. I am not some simple scullery maid, so easily fooled. Not that scullery maids are fools it is simply a saying." The more this woman spoke the more she was infuriating Athos. Her wild temper and fast-paced words made him feel like he was in a sword-fight except words were his only weapon, and she was winning. Unable to come up with an equally witty retort, Athos was speechless as the fierce female beside him continued._

_"Never mind. We shall have to disrupt the sequestered lovers. It is getting late and Anne has to be up early tomorrow for Royal Mass with the King." She called the Queen by her first name? Who was this woman?_

_As Athos followed her to open the door he heard her utter a quiet sentence just as they were opening the large double doors._

_"Jocelyn. My name is Jocelyn."_

After dragging Aramis away and berating him for his pure idiocy, Athos had been able to get a few hours sleep before he rose at dawn to meet with Captain Treville.

Walking into the barracks, he was greeted by only two of his three friends. Porthos stood leaning lazily against a wall trying to catch a few more seconds of sleep with his eyes squeezed shut. Aramis on the other hand seemed wide awake and greeted him enthusiastically upon his entrance. Only the youngest of them was absent.

"Where's D'Artagnan? Treville expects all of us." Athos voiced loud enough to make Porthos cringe and wake fully.

"He's passed out in his room. After the amount he drank last night, he's no use to man or beast." Porthos announced, with a smile that made it seem as if he was proud of the part he had played in his friend's inebriation.

"Alright then. Doubt he would have been much use anyway, given how he was sulking last night." Athos replied.

"Why does the Captain wish to see us so early|? Not that I'm complaining! It is a beautiful day."Aramis said brightly, it seemed that his encounter with the Queen the night before had improved his temperament.

"What happened to him?" Porthos hissed as they walk the stairs to Treville's office, Aramis walking ahead of them.

"He met a girl." Athos knew that this could have led to more questions but it was the most plausible reason for his cheerful mood.

"A girl? Ugh spare me the details.' His friend protested ironically.

When they entered Treville's office he quickly commanded them with the task Athos had assumed they would be given. They were to return to the investigation of Monsieur Rochelle and his spice shop of secrets. Now that there were no more royal festivities in their near future. Except of course the Royal Mass. But that was under the Cardinal's control, the church being his holy domain. It seemed they were to return to their usual work. Usual today meant going down into a labyrinth of tunnels to try to piece together a conspiracy consisting of one dead spice merchant and a great deal of investigative work.

Retrieving their horses from the barrack stables, they rode to the little spice shop by the Seine to look for unspecified clues.

Looking from the outside of the small shop, it looked in no way special. Just a small wooden building with a sign above that read

"_Rochelle's Spices- the best in Paris!_"

But when he looked at the pavement near the hop he noticed something. A large piece of wood propped against the wall.

"Porthos help me lift this." They hefted the heavy object to turn it and reveal a sign.

"_For Sale. Please in enquire inside._"

"He selling the shop?" Porthos asked.

"He _was_ going to sell." Aramis corrected.

"What made him change his mind?" Athos pondered aloud.

"We could ask around?" Porthos offered.

"Later. First we should go and look at these tunnels underneath the shop." Aramis countered.

"Both, I think. Aramis and I shall go and look at these tunnels. Porthos you go and ask around, ask his neighbors first, then maybe try the local taverns." Athos wanted Porthos out of the way for a moment to talk to Aramis, even if it meant they had to talk while exploring dark dank tunnels.

After parting with Porthos, the duo passed through the shop and removed the planks of wood that hid the secret stairway, which they took down to the hidden chamber that had been discovered shortly after the death of the shop's owner was discovered dead by Aramis only a few days ago. As soon as they had entered the chamber and walked down the stone steps that led to the tunnels, Athos heard Aramis sigh. Rolling his eyes he asked.

"Something on your mind, Aramis?" This was a pointless question. He knew exactly what was on his mind. or should he say..._who._

"What a thing to be alive! And in love!" He exclaimed throwing his arms out as if to embrace his brother-in-arms.

Athos took a step back.

"To think just yesterday morning I was a heartbroken man! Yet today the sun rose on a man who could not feel more in love!" It was as though the putrid stench that filled Athos' nostrils, was sweet crimson roses to Aramis. Even the dark wet tunnel they were passing through was simply a field of marigolds to this love-struck fool.

"You would do well to be quieter, or we will lose any chance of finding anything down here."

"Of course. We must find the villain responsible for murdering the Monsieur Rochelle." Aramis' voice was a great deal quieter but he still continued his conversation.

"Last night was the best night of my life, and I have had some good nights in my past. But this! To know that she surely loves me. She said she would until she took her last breath." He sighed and shut his eyes, his mind taken back to the memory of his love.

While the Spaniard was still in his reverie, his companion had been leading him down through the tunnel when he heard a sound. A small scuffling that seemed to be near to the ground. A small black rat squeaked anxiously as it passed his foot and scurried past.

"Aramis look." He grabbed his friends arm and pointed to the rat.

"Yes? Athos... You are aware that dark tunnels under the city are bound to have the odd rat around?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, but listen." A pause ensure they both heard the faint noises from around the corner. Rushing along to find the source. They were greeted by a gruesome image.

A corpse on the ground before them, covered in rats. Each small furry creature nibbling at the exposed skin. Although neither men knew when the rats had begun their feast, their progress was evident. Already most of the victims face was devoured, along with the neck and chest. If one looked close enough the would be able to see the glint of bone through gouges in the forearms and ankles. The torso and upper legs were protected by a worn leather vest and thick woolen trousers.

"What do you think happened?" Aramis murmured, his cheerful expression replaced with a sickened look.

"Well..." Athos leaned in for a closer look, shooing away the rats that had not already fled.

"Male judging from the clothes. Could have been here for any amount of time between a few hours and a week though. Not a nobleman, but also not a beggar. This vest is expensive, but made for durability not fashion. Whatever money he had he spent it wisely. Which means he didn't rely on a steady paycheck. I would hazard to guess he was an independent contractor of sorts."

"Really? You got all of that from a vest?" Aramis asked incredulously.

"You'll be surprised what you can learn when your mind is focused on the task at hand." Athos muttered.

"Oh then I shall endeavour to be as sour as you and perhaps my work will improve." Aramis sniped as he leant down to get a closer look. His eyes quickly focused on a belt. He reached forward nimbly to rip it away from the foul body. He handed it to his friend behind him and arose again. Athos removed from the sheath on the belt, a knife which gave off a sharp steely glint in the dim light of the torch they had brought.

"Well I do believe this clears things up. Look at the handle, Aramis. Do you see the markings? Why would a man carve into a perfectly good knife for no reason?" Athos turned his face to Aramis.

"An assassin." Aramis remarked. "They always like to tally their kills. Anything in the pocket?"

He was referring to the small leather pocket attached to the belt.

Athos undid the ties on it and emptied the contents onto his hand. The only things inside the pocket had been a piece of paper and a few seeds.

Aramis reached out and took the pare in his hands unfolding it and frowning at what he read.

_Le papillon bleu à l'aube._

"The blue butterfly at dawn? Any idea what that means?" Aramis asked.

"No." Athos frowned. He did not like being in the dark, and he didn't mean being in the tunnel.

"Well what about the poppy seeds?" Aramis questioned.

"How do you know what the seeds are?" He only saw small black seeds.

"My mother used to grow flowers. Sometimes I helped her." He smiled faintly at the fond memory.

"Very well. But I do not see how any of these clues make sense...It's as if we are grasping at straws."

"Well we should go an inform Treville of our chewed up friend here and have him sent to the mortician for examination."

Athos nodded in agreement and they traced their way back to the stairs under the ill-fated Rochelle's shop.

Walking up the stone steps they soon realised that the trapdoor could only be opened from the outside. After a few minutes of banging and shouting they remembered that their fellow musketeer was traipsing the local taverns for news of the spice merchant with more secrets than spices.

It seemed they would have to wait for Porthos.

After about ten minutes, just when the torch's light was beginning to die. Their prayers were answered.

The sturdy wooden door was swung open and both men climbed, squinting slightly at the sudden light change.

"Trapped were you? Good job brave Porthos was here to rescue you!" Their boisterous friend exclaimed.

"Yes Porthos. Opening a door required much bravery." Aramis muttered.

"More than you have." He replied, then continued. "I was just coming to join you-"

"Good luck you didn't or you would have been greeted with the same gruesome sight as us. You see, we found a dead body."

"Oh did you? How long had she been there?" Was Porthos' reply.

"She? Why do you think it was a woman?" Athos asked before Aramis could continue.

"Well judging from what the neighbours have been saying. First few houses were pretty silent but when I got to the fourth one, a Madame Sevitte. Well she was a right old gossip. Told me how Rochelle had been planning to sell the shop to cover his gambling debts. He was in deep with a local man named Chavalle, pretty nasty sort she says. Dangerous even."

"That still doesn't explain the woman theory." Athos pointed out.

"I'm getting to that. If I can continue? So as I was saying, he was in debt, bad enough he was going to give up the spice business. Then suddenly the debt's gone and he is redecorating the shop, having work done all day and night. So this Madame asks where the money is coming from and Rochelle goes on about how his rich aunt died and left him a fair bit of gold." But Sevitte thinks he had a new fancy woman, who was donating all the money. Which is why I thought the body was this lady."

"If only it were so simple." Aramis commented then conveyed their assassin theory to Portho, who frowned at this new even more puzzling information.

"Maybe Athos is wrong? And this man is just an unlucky drunk with a battered knife, a few seeds and an odd couple of words on a scrap of paper?"

"Porthos, my friend, when has our work ever been so easy?" Aramis smiled patting his still-confused friend's shoulder.

"Okay well we need to find out about this woman-" Athos began to state but his words died when he heard a sound.

What sounded like shouting from outside the shop, and it was growing closer. Athos soon recognised the voice as that of their friend and comrade D'Artagnan. He appeared to be shouting their names.

"ATHOS! PORTHOS! ARAMIS!" The young man was bellowing.

Just as they were going to make their way to the door, it was flung open and their friend appeared in the doorway.

"D'Artagnan! Nice to see you are feeling better. But what is with all this caterwauling?" Aramis asked. as the newest member of the musketeers moved toward them.

Now that the youngster was closer they could see the dark expression on his unnaturally pale face. Whatever he was about to say wasn't good. A solemness fell over them all as they waited in silence for their friend to speak.

D'Artagnan made a choked sound then began to speak.

"Treville sent me to get you all. We are to go straight to the palace. The Queen has collapsed at the Easter Mass."

**A.N. Okay okay okay I bet you hate me right now but well if you wanted fluff you shouldn't be reading this. Remember the saying "It gets worse before it gets better" keep that phrase in mind.**

**Now remember reviews make happy and when I'm happy I don't kill people. (Not real people. I'm not a serial killer) **

**Review! Review! Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Musketeers or any of it's characters.**

**A.N. Okay so first an apology for what has to be the slowest update ever. Very sorry! I will try to update more. But I did not forget you all, or this story, so bear with me. I have grand plans for these characters…**

**Multiple PoVs this chapter to really cover it all. Don't hate me.**

**Aramis PoV**

_Let her be well._

_Dear god let her and the child be well. _This was all he could think as they edged ever closer to the palace. Thinking of what they could possibly encounter knocked the air from his lungs.

Aramis gripped the reins tighter and urged his steed on at an almost deadly pace, his comrades followed closely behind them. All wearing matching masks of concern. The weather had taken a dark turn, rain pelting from the now darkened sky, a chill had set itself in his chest and it was only partly from the cold.

As they hurtled down the muddy road that lead through the palace grounds, Aramis' mind was thrown back to the moments after D'Artagnan's revelation…

_After his announcement D'Artagnan seemed lost for all words and, running his fingers through his hands, he leant against a nearby beam like a dead man._

_"Collapsed?" Athos questioned incredulously, the brief period of silence was ended by his voice. No one had wanted to be the first to speak. Aramis would have voiced himself but he was having trouble drawing breath, let alone speaking, all he could do was gasp for air and try to blink away the black spots that were clouding his vision._

_His friends looked almost as worse for wear, D'Artagnan was ashen and Porthos looked as if he would be sick. Although their loyalty was to the King for the most part they all preferred the Queen. Her loyalty was not demanded but simply given freely from her charm and kindness. The innate goodness she had and her will to help the people separated her from other royals._

_Athos stepped close to D'Artagnan his demeanour solemn and stern. This action seemed to rouse the younger man, who cleared his throat and straightened to speak._

_"Yes in church during the Holy Communion. I was accompanying Captain Treville after awakening late. The Queen looked rather unwell but was happy enough to continue, it wasn't until she collapsed that we saw how bad she had been…" The last few words were said in a dark tone. "They have taken her to the palace. Treville sent me to bring you all to there. Word has spread and there is a crowd at the gates, we are to be extra security. In case of any…Unfortunate news."_

_"Let us leave quickly." Athos threw a cursory glance at Aramis trying not to look to concerned at his friend's lack of movement._

_D'Artagnan and Porthos were already through the door speaking to one another in broken sentences, Athos stepped closer to Aramis and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could not help but feel the cold sweat that had enveloped the spaniard._

_Aramis jumped at the contact. He let out a ragged breath and looked into his friends eyes with the look of a dying man._

_"What do I do?" He croaked, his face now completely drained of all colour._

_"Pray. Pray for your love. But you must also do your duty." He steered Aramis to the door and accompanied him to their horses._

_"We all must."_

They were now entering the courtyard in a flurry, sending stone pebbles flying in their wake.

Aramis immediately knew something was terribly wrong. He had expected to encounter servants scurrying to and fro, ladies whispering and guards trying to control the clamour. Instead he heard nothing. It was as if a spell had been cast quelling all sounds.

Panic began to take over him, he jumped from his horse and began to run. He did not even bother to look behind him, although judging form the accompanying sounds his fellow musketeers were doing the same.

Aramis lost all peripheral vision as he strode through the grand doors of the palace and along the marble floors that paved the way to the Queen quarters. He encountered no one in his hurry, the palace was empty of all life. But as he became closer to the quarters he heard murmurs of noise.

Forlorn soft sounds like women sobbing and hushed solemn whispers.

Reaching the doors that had been left unattended, he reached for the handle. For a split second he froze. Whatever he would see behind that door would not be good, deep inside him he knew there was only one thing that could make him feel the sense of foreboding that made him feel as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. _Slowly_.

Turning the handle he entered the small antechamber by the Queen's bedroom, he was met by a small group of people, all of whom did not look as if they knew what to do.

The Queen's ladies were sitting on chairs sobbing in a cluster in one corner. Two of the kings noblemen were standing uncomfortably by the wall speaking to one another almost silently.

The noise of his sudden entrance had caused all to look up. Once the women saw his blue cloak they simply continued their sobbing all trying to console a blonde woman who had been shocked into hysterics by the sudden noise of the door.

The scene before him had made the black spots return and it was all he could do to maintain his balance and push through the second door to the Queen's bedroom. The noblemen made no effort to stop him. They simply shied away from the entrance.

The second Aramis entered the room he knew he shouldn't have.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. A rotten putrid smell like dead flowers with a metallic tang that hit the back of his throat and made him want to gag. It was the smell of death, he had smelt it in the busy street where he had found Monsieur Rochelle with his throat cut open, it the tunnels earlier that day, where it had been stronger, and here in this room where it was a thousand times stronger.

But the smell was nothing compared to the sight before him. A man dressed in the garb of a doctor stood by the bed, he did nothing. He could do nothing. The person who lay there could not be helped, her fate was now in the hands of God.

Anne…, correction, _Anne's body_ lay on the bed swathed in sheets. Her eyes gently shut with her lips parted slightly. She could have been asleep, if not for the deathly pallor of her face. But no breath left those pale blue lips. And the blood. Once Aramis saw it he knew there was no escaping the truth. She was dead. Crimson blood streaked the sheets of the bed.

They were drawn up to her waist leaving her chest only covered by her undergarments. A cursory glance showed a golden gown crumpled to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Her hair had come loose from its pins and was spread loosely around her face. The edged curled gently to frame her ghostly face. One arm was placed over her still rounded stomach while the other hung over the edge of the bed still loosely gripping a golden necklace. It must have come off in the flurry to remove her clothes.

Stood stock still staring at her body, Aramis had never felt more alone. She was gone, her once life-filled vessel now barren of all. Even the child she carried was gone. That was a small piece of solace. At least they were together, as God intended, though what God would allow such brutality in those so pure. Stolen into his holy kingdom leaving only wretched sinners as himself behind, Alone.

"Porthos take him outside."

A voice broke through his clouded thoughts.

Tearing his eyes from the macabre bed, Aramis glanced to his left and saw a grave Athos and a sickly looking Porthos.

Letting himself be led, he hadn't the energy to fight, he simply whispered in struggle.

"I cannot leave her."

Porthos' face was in permanent frown as he ushered his friend out into the corridor.

"There is nothing to leave. She is gone. Our Queen is dead."

**Athos PoV **

Athos watched for a few brief seconds as the devastated spaniard was taken from the room. Then breathing in a deep breath despite the rotten air, he walked over to the doctor, now clearing up his tools, an began to inquire.

"What exactly happened here? I have not been fully informed." Athos wanted a full and detailed explanation of what exactly had put an end to the like of the young Queen.

The doctor, a young man in his twenties with a pinched look on his face, appeared almost startled to have been approached at all but spoke without further instruction.

"When I first arrived, I was informed that the Queen had simply had a bout of weakness, common is expectant mothers, most likely brought on by stress. That with a lack of sleep and her fragile state had made her faint. At worst I was to ensure her child was not injured in the fall but… As soon as I saw her I knew she was losing her child. I believe that she had a condition that made her unable to fully bear children. I have only seen it a few times before. It's almost always impossible to diagnose. It causes internal bleeding and if blood loss becomes too significant it can be fatal. This was the case with Her Majesty. By the time I had arrived it was already too late… A small happiness is that she was not in much pain. She simply…slipped away." The doctor had finished packing his supplies and was taking his bag onto his shoulder, when he continued.

"I have been informed that the Cardinal will send for the mortician and perform the religious rites. There is nothing more I can do." Glancing for a last time at the body, he shook his head and exited the room.

After a brief moment of silence, while he worked thought his various thoughts, Athos realised he was alone in the room with the body. In a moment of superstition he didn't know he had in himself. Athos crossed himself with the _signum_ _cruces _and began to make his exit from this cursed room.

Before he reached for the handle, the musketeer took a second to glance despondently at the corpse of his Queen. In a moment of tenderness, Athos stepped forward and grasped the hand draped over the side of the bed to place it with her other hand on the swollen stomach. As he did so the necklace that was held tightly in her hand came loose and fell to the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, he noticed an object glinting under the bed. Swiftly reaching forward for the source of the shimmer, he found himself holding a small stone about the size of a walnut.

It was quite an extraordinary stone, at first glance it was oblong and dull, like a kind of pebble, but when he moved it in his fingers it underwent a transformation. Just under the smooth grey surface a gleaming layer of a myriad of colours. Golden yellow, emerald green and deep blue billowed together almost magically. For Athos placing this stone in his pocket was merely a moment of whimsy, which was very unlike him. He had no idea where it had come from, or why it had come to be where it had, he simply wished to keep it near him for the time being, so that he could look upon it further when he had time. Had he know at that moment that a mere few inches from where he had retrieved this curious object, were four or five small black seeds that would have meant far more to him than this trinket.

After leaving the Queen's quarters, Athos had a brief conversation with Captain Treville, in which the older man further described the events preceding the Queen's death. His short, concise words were unable to hide how shaken he was. In five years of service, Athos had never seen his commander so emotional as he was when he spoke of this day's tragic events. Treville had known the Queen since she had been a young bride, it was obvious he had cared for her like a daughter. He also seemed to have his hands full with the King. The Captain had mentioned that their sovereign leader was alone in his chambers, still reeling from this fresh loss and was in no condition to see anyone. Athos was further instructed to lay low for the time being until he and his men were required, apparently the Red Guard would oversee the King's protection on the grounds for the time being and the Musketeers were to prevent any brawls from turning into something more once the news of the Queen's death had spread throughout the city. The last thing that the King needed was a riot in his time of mourning. For once Athos was happy that the Red Guard was taking charge of the situation. Right now Athos needed to pay attention to another in mourning. Something Treville had said made him think. _It's times like this you need to protect the ones around you. _There had been a moment of panic after he had said this that Athos could have sworn he knew Aramis' secret. He simply must have imagined the sideways look Treville had given him.

Making his excuses and promising to be vigilant on the streets of Paris, Athos was now looking for Aramis. Despite the tricks his mind was playing on him, Athos had only been away from his friend for at most half an hour. He decided to return to their horses, to see if only his remained.

When he arrived at the entrance to the Palace and saw through a window that all four horses were in place. When he got to the doorway, he heard noises. A retching sound coming from behind the ornate bushes that circled the courtyard. When he approached, he saw D'Artagnan standing off to the side while Porthos was crouched over an obviously ailing Aramis. He was bent over double and seemed to have just finished vomiting.

"Is he alright? Should I get water?" Athos didn't know how to help his friend.

"I have a better idea." Porthos made room for Athos by Aramis' side and went to his horses saddle-bag. Returning with a small flagon, he handed it to a sitting Aramis who took it with one hand while the other wiped away the remaining bile from his mouth. Athos was beginning to think alcohol was Porthos' only solution.

He took a large gulp choking on the flagon's contents and handed it to Athos, who in turn took a sip. In turn all made a silent toast to the Queen even D'Artagnan, who was grey from the night before still.

"What did you learn, Athos?" The young man questioned in place of the silent spaniard who was gazing at the ground as if he wished it would engulf him.

Athos described what both the Captain and the Doctor had told him. He tried to leave out the gory details but it was hard to leave them out and after he had finished all men looked even more shaken. Aramis had an almost empty look in his eyes. Athos went on to summarise their duties for the time being, much to Porthos and D'Artagnan's chagrin.

"But we are the King's royal guard! We can protect him far better than those Red bastards!" Porthos raged.

"We are to patrol the city and prevent any discord among the people. They will be grieving for their Queen and our duty is as the Captain demands!" Athos countered.

Porthos seemed ready to continue his tirade but his voice died in his throat as he gestured to behind Athos.

Turning immediately, Athos came face-to-face with someone he had completely forgotten in the day's haste and who he knew must be as distraught as Aramis.

Jocelyn.

The red-haired maid stood looking dishevelled in a green dress, her hair almost free of it's usually tight bun. She had a wild look in her witchy green eyes and judging from the puffiness around them, she had been crying. Her dress was only a thin summer one and in the light rain she was shaking. He began to step closer, slowly as if approaching a deer.

"My Lady…" He placed a gentle hand on Jocelyn's shoulder. Lord she was ice cold.

"I- I…_you!_" As she had looked up into Athos' eyes, she had glanced over his shoulder and seen Aramis, staring blankly into space. Pushing past him, she took the Musketeers by surprise and was launching herself at Aramis with a cat-like speed.

"YOU WRETCHED MAN! YOU YOU FOOL! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" The force of her attack had knocked Aramis to the ground where she clawed and hit at him like a wild animal. He was barely trying to fight her off.

It took several moments to break them apart, so strong was her rage, all the while she shouted obscenities. Some of which were in a language unknown to Athos.

"You bastard! You Spanish dog! It's your fault! It's all your fault!"

In the end Porthos had to forcibly lift the feral woman off the ground with D'Artagnan having to hold her legs still, a trial that resulted in him being kicked several times, once in the head.

"Jesus Christ, she's a wild one!" Porthos remarked.

"D'Artagnan! Porthos! Get him out of here before people hear! Perhaps she will calm herself when he is gone."

They did as he ordered and picked up a shell-shocked Aramis, with blood on his cheek from where she had scratched him. He took Jocelyn and tried to contain her while they left.

Athos thought he heard D'Artagnan ask.

"What did she mean? It's his fault?" To which Porthos had replied.

"Shut up."

She continued to screech until the three men had ridden away.

"He killed her! She's dead because of him! If it weren't for him! I curse that man! I curse you all!" Athos continued to hold her in his vice-like grip until her shouts had quietened to a series of whimpers and she had stopped fighting him, after a while she was simply weeping into his shoulder.

When her sobs had quietened to a steady flow of tears and Athos was certain that the men would be out of chasing distance, he loosened his grip on the tearful maid.

"Can you be quiet? If anyone hears you…." He left the sentence open, knowing she knew his meaning.

"What they'll kill us all for treason? So what? The only friend I have ever had is gone. The woman I dedicated my life to, gone. Let them hang us." Jocelyn sounded as if she truly wished this.

She glanced down at their entwined hands and broke then free to gaze at her hands. At first he thought she disked the intimacy they were briefly sharing but when Athos followed her gaze, he saw that her fingers were still marked with faint red-brown marks. Blood.

"You were with her?" If he was right then she must have seen far worse than he thought.

"No…not when it mattered." She hid her face in her blood-stained hands.

"What do you mean?" Despite her attack on Aramis, he wanted to help her. Perhaps talking would do good.

"I overslept…no one woke me. So I was not with her. I was meant to watch her. But she seemed so well the night before…tired and a bit faint but happy. You know why. When I realised I had missed the Mass, I was barely worried but then I heard the commotion…" Her voice trailed off into fresh tears, gulping and wiping her eyes, she continued to the best of her ability.

"I came to her rooms to see the King leaving. He claimed he felt faint." Disgust tinged her voice.

"When I came in there was only the Cardinal and the Doctor. I insisted on helping, the other ladies had left. I tried to rouse Anne, but I was told she had fallen unconscious when they arrived at the palace. He tried to apply pressure to stop the blood. I passed him fresh dressings and he gave me the soaked ones but…" When she paused he assumed she was in tears again, but when he looked up he saw she simply frozen with a look of sorrow and confusion that was almost childlike.

"What…What do I do now?" She said this quietly, as if it was an unanswerable question.

"You move forward. It's all you can do. Life goes on and so you must."

"I have to leave." She voiced quietly.

He knew from the tone of her voice she didn't just mean leaving his company.

"Where will you go?" For some reason he didn't like the idea of her disappearing.

"I have family near here. In the country."

For a moment they locked eyes, her bright green ones and his steady grey ones.

Almost in sync with each other they leaned in as if to kiss but before his lips could touch her. Jocelyn swiftly turned away and walked into the wood without so much as a goodbye. Despite not knowing when or if she would ever return, Athos had a feeling he would be seeing this beautiful woman again.

He was right.

**Jocelyn PoV**

Jocelyn wasn't sure where to go.

Now that she had begun her exit from the palace, a dozen question bubbled up.

She would have to make the rash decision to contact her family in Paris to see if they would help her. She was almost certain they would. People like her tended to stick together. Made them easier to hunt.

Even if her family didn't want her, she couldn't stay at court. Not now. It wouldn't be the same. A new Queen to serve? Never.

Brushing these negative thoughts away as she walked through the grounds towards the palace gates, Jocelyn thought instead of what Athos had said. _Life goes on. _

Did it? Could she go on without her friend of almost twenty years? There would be no doubt that she would never have a true friend like that again, Jocelyn wasn't a people person. Her actions with the spaniard were violent proof.

But she could still do good. For Anne. Perhaps she was already in Heaven looking down at her old friend. Jocelyn liked the thought of her friend watching over her, that maybe she wasn't truly gone.

Jocelyn smiled faintly at this, as she left the grounds. If she had been a little more focused, she might have seen the hooded figure in the trees watching her leave before it turned to head for the palace.

**A.N. MWAHAHAHA I am diabolical! Okay I'm sure you hate me right now but be honest, do you think I would spend eight chapters brewing romance and drama to just kill off the Anne in the Annamis? Please review with feedback and don't hate Jocelyn. She is my plot device pawn, and obviously she is very stressed atm. Her and Queeny were like this *holds fingers together* no homo tho I promise :P**


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